Hey beautiful people! So, it's summer again, and that means it's the season of fanfiction! I haven't done this in a while, so please don't burn me with the flames of angry fangirls if this doesn't come out quite right. Don't hate, appreciate! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned PJO, HoO, or any associated characters, I would live in a magical rainbow castle with Leo as my hubby and throw wild house parties with the seven. 'Nuff said.
NOTE: SET AFTER THE GIANT WAR, SO SOME PEOPLES ARE NOW DEAD.
Nico sat at a table in his local Starbucks, squinting at the menu behind the counter. He had been avoiding sleep the last few nights, and it was beginning to take its toll on him. Everything was beginning to appear slightly blurred, and he was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open.
He didn't want to sleep, and he had a good reason not to. The Giant War had only been won recently, and every time he closed his eyes, he was haunted by the memories of the bloody battle, the lives lost, the bodies they had to burn…
That was part of why he was avoiding the camps. They were so empty, and the campers that remained all seemed to be in mourning. He appreciated the quiet, but honestly, he missed the cheerful campers running up and down of the beach, playing volleyball, scrambling up and down the rock climbing wall. He would never admit it to anyone, but he loved the hustle and bustle of camp life. It was part of what made it Camp Half-Blood. It was part of what made it home.
But it wasn't home, not anymore. Not with the scarred earth and heavy sadness in the air. Now it was simply a reminder of a happy life he could have had, once upon a time. If things had been different. But you can't change the past, and now Nico was denied that 'happy home'.
With a sigh, he got to his feet and slouched over to the counter to order. He glanced at the boy behind the counter. The boy appeared to be about his age, although he was a full head taller than him. He had white blonde hair, bright green eyes and a friendly smile that reminded Nico of camp. He wore a grey button-down shirt and washed out jeans under his green Starbucks apron.
"Hi," the boy said, grinning. "You've been sitting in that corner for a while. Decided what to order?"
Nico glared at the boy, then decided starting an argument was a waste of time. "Café Americano." He said simply.
"Coming right up," the boy turned and began to make the coffee. Nico watched him while he worked. He moved quickly, and kept drumming his fingers against his leg when he had to wait for something.
The boy returned to the counter, handing Nico his coffee. Nico paid for his drink and mumbled a 'thanks' before retreating to his table in the corner. He sipped at the beverage, welcoming the warmth and energy it offered him.
Nico had almost finished his drink when the boy behind the counter…well…wasn't behind the counter anymore.
"Enjoying your drink?" Nico looked up to see the boy staring down at him, still smiling.
Nico looked the boy up and down. He was quiet for a while. Then, "It's alright, I guess," he muttered. He looked at the boy again. "Are you required to smile at your customers like that? It's weird."
The boy put on a bored looking face. "Would you prefer if I looked all sad like you?"
Nico scowled at the boy, then placed his now empty cup on the table and stood, turning to leave.
"Hey, hang on!" The boy sounded surprised, and put his hand on Nico's shoulder. "I was only joking around. You don't have to get so worked up."
Nico jerked away from the boy's hand. "I don't like to be touched." He growled. Then, without another word, stalked out of the coffee shop.
. . .
Nico found himself at McDonalds.
He hadn't been particularly surprised that the boy had pointed out his sullen look. He had a very gloomy appearance, and it was something he was used to. But, however serious his reasons for being sad were in the past, they were doubly serious now. He had the right to be sad, and he wasn't about to let some fifteen-year-old make fun of him for it. That, combined with his crankiness from lack of sleep almost guaranteed him snapping at the kid. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn't drawn his sword on the boy, or summoned a skeleton army to drag him to the Underworld.
After storming out of Starbucks, Nico had made his way to the nearest McDonalds. Whenever he felt sad, or alone, or lost, he tended to rely on ghosts to help him through it. And lately, he found himself with an excess amount of ghosts to talk to.
Nico bought a couple of happy meals before hurriedly exiting the fast-food place and heading back home. Or, rather, to his place of living.
It was just an apartment that he rented, really. He couldn't bear to be at camp, but he had to live somewhere. The place was small, but it was cheap. Plus, he was pretty sure the landlady pitied him or something, because she gave him a discount on the apartment and sometimes brought him homemade meals or baked goodies. He didn't actually eat them, most of the time. Actually, he hadn't been eating much in general, lately.
He made his way to his cramped room and pondered over who he should summon first. The decision he made was the expected one. Bianca. Whenever he considered raising the dead, his sister was always the first person he thought of. Besides, he hadn't spoken to the ghosts of the others yet, and wasn't sure if he was ready to face them.
He pulled out The Pot. After moving in here and realizing there was nowhere to summon ghosts, Nico had bought a ridiculously large gardening post, filled it with grave soil, and hidden it in his closet. He dragged it out now and dug out some of the soil. He muttered an offering to Bianca, then dumped a happy meal into The Pot and waited.
It wasn't long before Nico saw a misty figure rise out of The Pot, then step out of it. It was hard to see properly at first, but slowly the figure became clearer, until Nico could see the smoky figure of his sister.
He always told himself, and everyone else, for that matter, that he had accepted his sister's death, that he had moved on. And he had. But still, every time he saw her spirit, he felt this stab of pain in his chest, a horrible reminder that although his heart still beat, she wasn't so lucky.
"Hey there, little brother," Bianca said with a grin. "What's up?"
Nico tried to smile back, but it ended up as more of a grimace. He just couldn't fake a happy face when just about everyone he loved was dead.
Bianca made a face at him. "Uh-oh. I don't like that look. What's got you down?"
Nico simply shook his head. "I never thought the answer to that question would be death."
Bianca nodded. "Yeah, I noticed a lot of new faces down here. Do you want to talk about it?"
Nico shook his head. He was silent for a long time. Then he sucked in a deep breath. "It's just that…I miss them all. So, so much. I miss them like I never thought I'd miss anyone but you. They were all family to me, and now they're gone. I know it's stupid. I'm the son of Hades. I can summon them, and talk to them…but…I don't know. I miss them."
His sister nodded, an understanding look on her face. "Nico…sometimes, the living can offer comfort in ways the dead will never be able to. Not even for you. It's not stupid. It's okay to mourn. It's okay to miss them."
Nico shook his head. "But it isn't okay! I was never close with them. I never liked them like other campers did. But now they're gone, and I'm just realizing…I did love them, and appreciate them, and need them…" He hung his head. He could feel a burning behind his eyes, and didn't want his sister to see him cry.
Bianca took her brother's face in her ghostly hands, and Nico felt a chill pass through him. "Then tell them." His sister whispered. "I know they'd like to hear that."
Nico looked up, needing to see the kindness and patience in his sister's face, his favorite thing about her. But she was already gone.
And that's it for chapter one! Again, I'm sorry if it's not the most flawless thing there ever was, but hey, I tried. Constructive criticism appreciated! R & R!